


Hug

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Broken Heart, Death, Friendship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:39:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hug

 

It all started with a hug. So, if I’d known the end from the beginning, would I have started it?  
  
I don’t know. Yeah, probably. At least this way I can say I married the love of my life. When I first saw Fraser all I could do was hug him. Dunno why – it made no sense, I’d never even met the guy. But I hugged him all the same, and we’ve been hanging on to each other ever since.  
  
Now he’s letting go, and I don’t want him too. We never talked about it, it’s not meant to happen.  
  
When you’re with someone, you don’t talk about it. Once upon a time I’d thought it would be me or Stella facing this day, then she left before the end. Me and Vecchio both. Seems like she does better alone, though she still sends Christmas cards.  
  
But yeah, Ben and me, we’d always known this day was coming, that one day one of us was going to die first, that one day the other would be alone. It’s something couples know.  
  
His breath is more shallow now, there are gaps between it, getting longer each time. I’m counting down seconds, every rattling wheeze might be the last one. Antibiotic resistant pneumonia. Damn stupid thing for the Mountie to die of. And fuck’s sake, he was the one who knew all about surviving in the cold.   
  
God knows how I’m going to survive in it.  
  
I’m holding his hand. It’s so skinny – it’s almost translu... transub... see-through. I’m just looking at those pale, pale fingers, stroking them with my thumb, when Vecchio arrives. Just in time, looks like. Musta come straight from the bi-plane, still got snow on his coat and boots.  “Jesus,” he says, which, you know, I’ve heard all sorts of shit come outta his mouth, but I’ve never heard that one. Maybe he actually means it. I lift my free hand to my lips, gesture ‘hush.’ Vecchio nods, shrugs his snow sodden coat off – it goes ‘whumph’ when it hits the ground. Funny what you notice. Not like the style-pig at all to just drop a coat like that. He leaves it there, goes round the other side of the bed, parks his ass down. He looks stunned, like he never expected Fraser to die either. His eyes are practically bugging out of his head, and he’s hyperventilating a little, like he’s gonna panic, but he pulls off his mittens, grabs Fraser’s other hand, and tries to smile.  “Benny,” he says, then he’s not talking anymore. He’s too busy trying not to cry.  
  
Fraser opens his eyes, sees Vecchio. Smiles. Looks over at me, and his face is so happy. Shiny-happy, like – like when he landed in the middle of an Arctic snowfield and justabout broke his face grinning. He can’t even speak, and he’s leaving me, but the bastard’s still smiling. That beautiful smile I’ll never see again.  
  
He lifts my hand, God, that must cost him, and places it on his chest. I can feel all his ribs through the hospital gown. Then he lift’s Vecchio’s hand, puts it over mine. Our three hands rest for a moment on his chest – rise, shallow fall, pause. Rise again.  
  
For a moment I think Fraser’s gonna say something – or maybe sit up and tell us it’s all been a mistake – but then he’s looking at the door – the closed door – like someone just walked through it. We both turn to follow his gaze – nobody there. When we look back at him he’s smiling again, at whoever it is we’re not seeing. Vecchio blinks, and his cheeks are shiny. Not just melted snow.  Fraser squeezes our hands together, his, mine and Vecchio’s, and then –   
  
Shit. Oh, shit.  _He’s gone._  Just like that, the body isn’t Fraser anymore.  
  
Vecchio starts bawling, breaks right down like you’d never imagine he could. Like his brother just died. And I –  
  
I get up, go round the bed, hug Vecchio. I’m not crying yet. Fraser’s gone and I...  
  
 _God. Fraser’s gone._  
  
So, yeah. I hug Vecchio. I'm crying on his shoulder, and he hugs me back.  
  
And that’s the end of it. With a hug. Like the beginning. I got to love him. He broke my heart.  
  
I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Having sat at a few deathbeds, it's worth remembering that love is worth a broken heart.
> 
> Originally written for fanflashworks, challenge 'fast forward.'


End file.
